


Impossible to Like

by catastrophage



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Gen, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Sleep Deprivation, Suicidal Thoughts, s03ep12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 19:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophage/pseuds/catastrophage
Summary: A short story about what I imagined to happen after the newest episode.It's non-slash but some tension in accordance with the series canon... enjoy!





	Impossible to Like

**Impossible to Like**

He had a calm breath, and his tall body leaned against the car like a rag doll. Eyes closed, his dirty hands on the dusty floor, just inches away from the gun. "Take watch while I go down to judge the situation," he had told him. "I can move in the herd."

His brother's body lay on the floor, blood dripping from the wound in his head. Troy had sat down facing him, but never really looked at him. He had been composed, but Nick could feel his tears, hiding on the inside. The way Troy had looked at him, asked him to end his life. His plan had failed, he had lost everything. And yet he didn't have the guts to take the gun and end it. He had to ask Nick.

We're not playing this game again, Nick thought to himself. He knew Troy wanted to live, as desperate as he was. He didn't tell him he knew. Instead he kicked the gun closer and told him to do it himself, tempting him. He didn't even know if he wanted Troy to live anymore.

So he left alone, to see who survived, and to see if there was any way out of the trap that was once the farm. He hadn't walked with the infected in months, but when he killed the first and covered himself in his blood, it felt familiar. I'm still an addict, Nick thought to himself. And this is my drug. The dead, the thrill, the crazy.

When he returned he saw the taller man sitting there, asleep. Part of him felt disappointed, because it proved Troy's weakness. But part of him also felt relief. Nick sat down next to him, his face still bloody. "Loser," he whispered. Troy did not move. Just to be sure, Nick raised a hand to feel his breath.  
"You're lucky the infected didn't pay you a visit, sitting here carelessly," he told him.  
Troy opened one eye. "They might as well," he mumbled. "But they don't harm me. Must be that I smell too bad."  
He was right, he smelled, but he did not smell of death. Didn't he claim he studied them?  
"Don't tempt fate, I get a feeling that fate is done with you."  
Now he chuckled. "I wish."  
"Don't."

Nick was serious. This crazy young man was a killer, and not even sorry about it. He was manipulative, a sadist and masochist at the same time. He would harm any creature that crossed his way without remorse, and harm himself just to get his way. He was someone Nick should hate, but he didn't. From the first day on, over and over again, he had had the chance to pull the trigger. But he couldn't. And the fact that Troy never tried to dodge a shot made it even harder.

He was impossible to like, and at the same time it was impossible for Nick not to like him. The wild spark in his eyes - his strong will to survive - paired with his wish to die, it was familiar. Too familiar. They were alike. And wishing Troy was dead was like wishing his own life to end, and that Nick couldn't do. He was a survivor.

"How much time do you need?"  
Troy moaned, wishing Nick would be quiet already. "How much can I have?"  
"You don't have time to reset your brain, but I can give you half an hour."  
Troy nodded. He had not slept for almost sixty hours. The first night awake had made him feel euphoric, or maybe it was his genius plan, but soon after his muscles started aching, daring him to sit down and sleep. After forty-eight hours the first hallucinations had set in and he noted a tremor in his hands while firing the grenades. When Jake had been bitten, the first panic attack came, but he kept it at bay so Nick wouldn't notice. Now he finally rested. But it was not a peaceful state of resting to sleep, his blood pressure was too high, his heart still racing underneath his calm facade. Troy forced his eyes open again. "Nick..." he whispered. "Help me."

Nick noticed Troy's hands clenching and could hear him breathe faster. "Panic attacks, huh?"  
He put a hand on the forehead of the other man, it was cold and sweaty. Troy obviously wasn't used to this. When everyone was sick with anthrax, Troy had been spared because he preferred tea. It seemed like he got through all tough situations unharmed, because he simply behaved different from everyone else.

Nick let out a small sigh, then moved his legs to sit on the other's lap. How Troy opened his eyes and looked at him weak and confused was a delightful sight. In any other situation, Nick would have played with him a little. He would have teased him, would have confronted him with his own craziness, something Troy would not know how to deal with. But this here was serious, they were short of time and the tall boy had just killed at least a dozen of people in his sleep deprived psychosis. Nick slammed his flat hand on Troy's face, covering his mouth and nose. As expected, Troy tried to wrestle himself free, but he was too weak, Nick could simply grab one of his arms with his free hand and press it on the car, on a spot heated up from the desert sun. Troy moaned under his hand.  
"Stop breathing," Nick demanded. Troy tried to wrestle himself free again, unsuccessfully. Nick could feel him getting desperate for air and finally let go. He watched him take a deep breath. "Hold it for a second, then release it slowly. You need to get rid of the excess oxygen to normalize your breathing."

He could see Troy's struggle to decide whether he was angry or thankful for what Nick had done, but it seemed to work. His body calmed down a little, his eyes fluttered and fell shut again. Nick kept sitting on his lap as he watched him falling asleep, to provide some weight, to ground him. He knew it helped some people, it seemed to work for Troy. Damn this boy was deprived of physical closeness, it was obvious. Feelings of pity sneaked into Nick's mind, but he shrugged it off. This was about as helpful as pitying himself and he had stopped that shortly after the apocalypse started.

When he got up again so Troy wouldn't heat up too much, he almost stumbled over the gun. The gun he had told him to end his life with. To hell with it, he thought. To hell with wishing others dead. He kicked it away, out of Troy's reach. He was not sure why, but he actually was happy he was alive. He did not mean what he had said and after his rest he would make him save the farm he destroyed.

So maybe one day it would be possible to like him.


End file.
